Huang Tianfang shouted from below, "Where's Zhang Yi? We're here to negotiate!"
Uncle You stepped forward with a crowbar. "Our boss is waiting upstairs. Only five of you can come in, and you have to hand over all weapons."
The representatives immediately bristled.
Chen Lingyu snapped, "Frisk us? Is this how Zhang Yi treats guests?"
Wang Qiang drew a machete with a cold sneer. "Zhang Yi is courting death. Does he really think he can stop a thousand people?"
Huang Tianfang laughed harshly. "We'll drown you in our spit."
Uncle You lifted his phone. He had been on a call with Zhang Yi the whole time.
Zhang Yi smiled faintly on the other end. "I see. Then let's teach them a lesson."
He walked to the window, pulled the pin on a grenade, and threw it straight into the crowd.
The bystanders, who had gathered only to watch the commotion, were still chatting when the whistling sound cut through the air.
Boom!
Fire and shrapnel ripped through the front ranks. Seven or eight people were blown apart, blood and severed limbs spraying into the snow. The crowd erupted into panic and scattered screaming in every direction.
Even the leaders went pale. They were just ordinary people, not soldiers.
Zhang Yi's voice came through the phone, calm and mocking. "So what if you have numbers?"
The representatives stared in disbelief. Grenades. Sniper rifles. They had only brought clubs and machetes. How were they supposed to fight that?
Wang Qiang's voice turned thin. "We came here to negotiate. Was that necessary?"
Zhang Yi replied coldly, "You brought a thousand people to a negotiation. I just cleared the crowd."
Then he added, "You have five minutes to get to the thirteenth floor. If you're late, the deal is off."
Li Jian looked at Uncle You and asked, "Which floor is he on?"
Uncle You sneered. "Thirteenth."
The five leaders immediately dumped their weapons and rushed up the stairs, walking straight into Zhang Yi's trap.